Huang Er: Why are you here in the underworld too? (Please show your support)

Huang Er felt as though he had just awoken from a dream.

He dreamed that, in a fit of rage to save Chen Huangpi, he had actually used the Dunyi Divine Light passed to him by that bastard Huang Yi. And then, so aggrieved, he died.

That damned aberration—after creating such a dangerous situation, it was all just to deliver a volume of alchemical scripture to Chen Huangpi. If only it had said so sooner...

The more Huang Er thought about it, the angrier he became, wishing he could burn that aberration to ashes.

His whole body was wracked with pain, as if he'd been gnawed on by the Master. The pain jolted him awake at once.

And then he saw Chen Huangpi's face.

“Huang Er, thank goodness, you’re finally awake.”

“Why are you here in the Underworld as well?”

The brass oil lamp was utterly bewildered. Hadn’t he died? By all rights, he should already be in the land of the dead. How could he be seeing Chen Huangpi? Did Chen Huangpi die too?

“Huang Yi, I knew you were up to no good. All those years I called you big brother, following you loyally, and when you passed me the Dunyi Divine Light, you still held back a trick.”

The brass oil lamp wailed, “Chen Huangpi, I failed you—I didn’t protect you—you died so tragically…”

Chen Huangpi was stunned. “I’m not dead, Huang Er, and neither are you.”

“That’s impossible! Absolutely impossible!” The brass oil lamp shook his head fiercely.

He was certain he had died. Judging by the early dawn, even if the Master intervened, it couldn’t have happened in such a short time.

The Master was formidable.

But death was death—once any being died, the heavens and earth would record it instantly. This was different from a Nascent Soul cultivator whose physical body was destroyed; as long as the Nascent Soul remained, it wasn’t death. The lamp’s wick, which could be considered analogous to the Nascent Soul, had burned away completely. He must have died.

Chen Huangpi said, “It’s true. I begged my master to save you. He told me I’d have to descend to the Yellow Springs, enter the land of the dead, then climb a place called Fallen Mountain to find a soul-restoring jade to save you…”

“So that’s how it is!”

The brass oil lamp burst into sobs. “Chen Huangpi, I knew you cared for me. Even after I died, you went to such lengths to save me. Were you injured? Did you get hurt?”

“No, not at all.”

Chen Huangpi shook his head. “I didn’t descend to the Yellow Springs or go to the land of the dead, so how could I have been hurt?”

“Then how did I come back to life?”

Now the brass oil lamp was dumbfounded.

Meanwhile, the soul-chasing ghost, hiding in the Soul Summoning Register hoping to see Chen Huangpi make a fool of himself, was equally stunned.

“Indeed, how could it come back to life?”

In the soul-chasing ghost’s understanding, death was final. Resurrection was merely a form of reincarnation. Yet here, Huang Er, so thoroughly dead, had come back to life. It was like a corpse whose head had rotted away suddenly being reattached and then leaping up, shouting “Try it again!”—utterly terrifying.

Chen Huangpi snorted coldly, annoyed. “My master is omnipotent. Is it so difficult for him to bring Huang Er back to life?”

Upon hearing this, the brass oil lamp was enlightened. “So the Master intervened. Wait, these bite marks on me…”

Chen Huangpi said, “After saving you, my master fell ill again and used you to grind his teeth.”

“And the Master?”

“My master…”

A look of distress crossed Chen Huangpi’s face; he shook his head. “My master went inside, and now dawn has broken, but he hasn’t come out yet.”

“What!”

The brass oil lamp was overjoyed, then abruptly feigned heartbreak. “Ah, this wounds me deeply. Farewell, Master. Chen Huangpi, quick, let’s seize the chance to escape this Ten-Thousand Mountains.”

“The world outside is so wonderful—I can hardly wait.”

“I will not leave!”

Chen Huangpi frowned. “My master is inside. I’m worried—I absolutely won’t leave.”

“Yes, yes, we shouldn’t be so hasty.”

The brass oil lamp spoke up. “Let’s wait until evening. If the Master hasn’t come out by then…”

“And if he doesn’t come out?” Chen Huangpi’s face flushed, fists clenched. “Huang Er, I won’t let you speak that way about my master—he will come out!”

“Ah, you’re impossible.”

The brass oil lamp sighed. He’d meant to say that if the Master didn’t come out by evening, then he surely wouldn’t. They wouldn’t need to leave at all. The Immortal Purity Temple would become Chen Huangpi’s.

But thinking about it, if the Master truly didn’t return, Chen Huangpi would surely be driven mad with worry.

“If the Master doesn’t come out by evening, I’ll accompany you inside again. I feel like after this resurrection, some of my powers have returned.”

The brass oil lamp truly felt a steady flow of lamp oil within—it no longer ran out after half a day, as before. If he used the Dunyi Divine Light again, he reckoned he wouldn’t even need Chen Huangpi to replenish him with spiritual energy—he could manage on his own, perhaps just a bit spent for a while, but certainly not to the point of risking his life.

“Cousin, do you see how my lamp body is brighter than before?”

“It is a bit brighter,” Chen Huangpi replied. “Because my master returned one of your avatars to you.”

The soul-chasing ghost was silent.

It had thought the eccentric old Daoist was terrifying enough, but he had completely surpassed its understanding.

Even as the soul-chasing ghost witnessed Chen Huangpi’s master revive the brass oil lamp, it simply couldn’t comprehend what had been done. It seemed nothing had been done at all.

And that was precisely what made it so unfathomably mysterious and terrifying.

“Your master—is he the mountain patroller?” the soul-chasing ghost asked, though its tone was full of certainty.

Chen Huangpi responded, “Patrolling the mountain—my master used to patrol often before he went mad. Afterward, I took over. I don’t know what being you’re talking about—is it me or my master?”

“It must be your master,” the soul-chasing ghost muttered. “All these years, I only heard the previous contract holder and other aberrations mention him a few times. They wander the Ten-Thousand Mountains, but none have seen the mountain patroller—only speculated.”

“Now it seems the speculation was true.”

“Nonsense,” the brass oil lamp sneered in Chen Huangpi’s heart. “Soul-chasing ghost, how many years have you lived? You don’t even qualify as a calamity and think you’re worthy to see the Master’s true face?”

“Your previous contract holder just got lucky—met Chen Huangpi and signed that head-selling contract, stumbling into the Immortal Purity Temple.”

“Have you ever wondered why there isn’t a single aberration near the Immortal Purity Temple?”

“Is it because they don’t want to come?”

The brass oil lamp had no respect for the soul-chasing ghost—even if it returned to its peak, it would be the same. Because if it did, the Master would eat it.

Though the Master was mad and no longer patrolled, the aberrations that appeared would not escape his attention.

The Ten-Thousand Mountains were rife with aberrations.

Yet the Immortal Purity Temple was a place no aberration dared approach.

Because it was the most sinister, most terrifying forbidden zone in the entire Ten-Thousand Mountains!

A forbidden zone in the truest sense!

The soul-chasing ghost ignored the brass oil lamp’s scorn. It only felt as if a veil had been lifted.

“That’s it,” it said with a bleak smile. “I thought I'd entered the tiger’s den—my life hanging by a thread, but at least I had some control. I never realized I’d entered a demon’s lair…”

Chen Huangpi earnestly corrected him. “The Immortal Purity Temple isn’t a demon’s lair; my master and I both cultivate immortality.”

But the soul-chasing ghost was despondent and wouldn’t speak further.

“Huang Er, why does it act so moody?”

Chen Huangpi asked the brass oil lamp, who scoffed, “That fool came from the land of the dead, probably still fantasizing about returning someday. Now, realizing how terrifying the Master is and falling into your hands, it’s completely given up.”

“If they knew who the Master truly was, they’d all kneel before you, eager to become your hounds.”

“I don’t need so many hounds.”

“Of course not—you have me, that’s enough.”

Hearing this, Chen Huangpi grew curious. “Was my master once very famous?”

The brass oil lamp thought for a moment. “No one knows in the Ten-Thousand Mountains, but in the Great Qian Immortal Dynasty, his fame was immense. I heard Huang Yi say that over there, even the Master’s real name is taboo. Wait…what is the Master’s surname and name?”

Chen Huangpi frowned. “My master’s surname is Chen, his name is Chen Shidao. I’ve told you so many times—how could you forget again?”

The brass oil lamp was momentarily stunned. Had he really said it many times? Why couldn’t he remember?

Forget it, that wasn’t important.

What mattered was—the Master’s name…

The brass oil lamp discovered, oddly, that as soon as the Master’s name entered his mind, it vanished instantly, as though he’d never heard it.

“Hiss…”

The brass oil lamp drew a sharp breath. “If the Master’s name is taboo, then every time I curse him in my mind, he must hear it loud and clear?”

Upon hearing this, Chen Huangpi felt his scalp tingle.

He recalled the words of the sinister Daoist: memories involving extremely terrifying existences should be avoided—every word becomes known, and who knows if such beings might leap out of memory, alive.

Especially for him, it was all the more forbidden.

“Huang Er, let’s change the subject.”

“Yes, yes…”

The brass oil lamp nodded hastily.

The soul-chasing ghost’s voice drifted in. “Contract holder, have you forgotten? There’s still that woman’s soul in the Soul Summoning Register.”

It had resigned itself to returning to the land of the dead, but being reduced to a skeleton was worse than death.

Chen Huangpi said, “Alright, I’ll go in now.”

…

At this moment, on the other side.

Within the newly expanded region of the Immortal Purity Temple.

It was still night.

The old Daoist in white robes wore a crazed expression, exuding a chilling demonic aura.

If Chen Huangpi were here, he would immediately see—

His master had suffered a full relapse.

Even if he tried to intervene, it would take considerable time to calm him.

“Eat! Eat! Eat!”

“Huangpi is the tastiest!”

“He wants to refine Huangpi into a pill. And what do you want?”

“No—whatever you want, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Because, when the heavens show omens—after six days and six nights, when day and night are redefined—the Ten-Thousand Mountains is where the sun sets last and the red moon rises first. This is the intersection of the mountains' yin and yang extremes.”

“You are trapped here, but I and the eldest can come and go as we please.”

“But why?”

The old Daoist in white roared fiercely, his face twisted. “Why did you see Huangpi and not touch him? What are you hiding in your gourd?”

But only the sound of bells answered him.

Dong...

Dong...

The Nine Departures Bell tolled, its sound pain-filled and distorted.

With every toll, it seemed to endure inhuman torment.

“Enough, enough.”

The old Daoist laughed maniacally. “Since you won’t talk to me, so be it. Huangpi has been waiting outside for so long. He must miss me dearly. I’ll go out now.”

“I’ll tell him how wicked you are!”

“Yes, you and the eldest are wicked.”

“Only I am good!”

The old Daoist in white laughed gleefully. “You all want something from Huangpi. Only I want to eat him. That makes me the good master—you’re all bad masters! Hehehehe, hahahahaha!!!!”